George Hamilton Private Eye: A Tight Fit
by Zombiehugger
Summary: What happens when you take Raccoon's number one surgeon and fit him into a Film Noir? You get his most daring, unescapable, and more than likely most stupid adventure yet!
1. Chapter 1

_**George Hamilton Private Eye: A Tight Fit**_

_Author's Note: I wrote this story for my friend's birthday/Christmas/st. patrick's day/ valentine's day/anything else you'd give someone a present for. I'm really proud of it and it's the first story I have ever finished, I hope you all enjoy it._

_Chapter one: A Surprising Case_

_"It was only a week ago, but I had done it. I finished my last case, made enough cash to sustain me for a while, and I was celebrating, well celebrating isn't right; getting drunk is closer."_

The smoky haze lifted just enough to allow George to see the swallow pool of scotch in his glass right before he drained the rest of the glass. Stifling a cough, George took another drag on his cigarette. The night air felt cool against his skin, and a small breeze futilely tried to make its way into his office, but to no avail. George sat up and placed his emptied glass on the table, getting ready to pour himself another. He reached for the ice box to his right, when he heard the door open in his the foyer. His hand frozen in air, George opened the drawer and reached for his gun. Gun in hand; he waited praying it wasn't someone from the King's gang wanting revenge for putting away their "fearless" leader David not a week ago.

George held his breath, preparing to overturn his desk in front of him and unload all hell onto the next person who walked into that door. He watched the door handle giggle and turn, the door slid open without a single noise. George had the gun aimed at the door, finger slightly squeezing the hair trigger. Slowly opening the door was a tall blonde, with shoulder length hair, tied into a pony tail. She wore the most breath taking blue dress with a slit in the front that went all the way up her mile high legs.

"_It was then that she walked into my life, the dame that would both give me a reason to go on and the danger that might end my life as I know it. Little did I know she wasn't exactly here for me, but my services."_

"You, aiming to use that?" She said, hinting towards George's gun.

"Heh, sorry doll." George said putting his gun away. _"I could tell that this dame was no ordinary dame. I had an uneasy feeling that this wasn't going to be an easy request._

"What can I do for you?" George asked as he pushed the hammer carefully back down on his gun and put it back in his desk drawer. He leaned back once again, and folded his hands in front of his stomach. The woman sat in the leather chair, minding the slit in her dress as she did.

"I read your ad in the paper and had heard some good things about you. That's why I need your help. It's an urgent matter that requires the utmost attention _and discretion_." She emphasized the last 

words while leaning in close to George's desk. She pulled a little envelope out from inside her small handbag and pushed it across the desk. George took it and opened it; inside there were pictures.

"_They were the most disturbing pictures I had ever seen in my entire life. How something like that could even try and get away with that was far beyond me. It took all I had not to lose my stomach looking at those pictures."_

"I can tell by the look on your face that you understand why I just _had_ to come to you. I need it back, it was stolen from my personal vault and used for…for that." The woman stifled a tear, and George pulled the handkerchief out from his pocket to give to the woman. She accepted it graciously and blew her nose loudly. "S…sorry." She handed George back his handkerchief, who took it between his index finger and thumb, holding it away from his body.

"_I was strangely fascinated by this woman, and yet I didn't even know her name._

"So then, you want me to get your…family heir loom back? That's it?" George asked surprised at how easy this job was going to be.

"Yes, that's all. Why, is this too small for you?" She asked.

"_This dame didn't have the first clue at how much I'd do to make end's meat._

"No, it just seems like something the police can handle, but I'll take your case."

"Oh? Thank you!" She immediately began fumbling around in her handbag. "Here, this is all I could come up with at the moment, but if you're willing, I can try to get more if it's not enough."

"Look Dollface, just give me what'cha got right now and we'll see how much I need at the end, okay?" A smile spread across her face as she handed George the wad of bills.

"_She obviously didn't know how much it would cost to undergo an investigation like this, she handed me almost five hundred dollars too much. I think I understand how much this case means to her."_

The woman stood to leave, but George spoke up. "Wait, I don't even know your name."

"Oh, I'm sorry I never did introduce myself, I'm Lennox, Cindy Lennox."


	2. Chapter 2

_**George Hamilton Private Eye: A Tight fit**_

_Chapter two: An Enlightening Night_

_"Well, after she left I wasn't able to think of anything else, but her and her case. I figured I'd get right on the case, calling some people who I knew would know something about her missing heir loom."_

George reached for his phone and picked up the receiver, while thumbing through some pages in his "little black book". He drug his index finger down the list of names, stopping on one of the informants, who always knew the underground info.

"Ben? This is George, I need a favor.

_"Ben was a reporter by profession and a squealer by trade. He was one of the reporters for Raccoon's biggest tabloid papers, but if you could grease this rat's wheel he'd tell you anything you wanted to know. I was playing on that knowledge now."_

"George! How ya been? Hey, what do you need?" 

"_Ben's voice was a little too cheery for my liking, he'd probably been hitting the rum again. I needed him sober and competent for what the info I needed. I decided I'd go down to Jay's bar, where he'd be and sober him up myself."_

"Ben, you at Jay's?"

"Yeah, you -_hick-_ coming down here?"

"Yeah, I'll be down in two shakes." George hung up the phone and pulled on his hazel trench coat. Before he left, he slipped his gun into his pocket.

It was a quick trip down the stairs of his third story office building, which he rented from a conniving landlord. As he left the building, he ran to the side of the street, just in time to get splashed by a taxi driving too close to the sidewalk.

"_This night was already starting out on a bad note. I was starting to think that seeing Ben tonight might not be such a good idea. I shook of that bad feeling and hailed a cab."_

The taxi rolled slowly to a stop right in front of George. He opened the door and sat down on the uncomfortable cloth seat. "Jay's bar please, and step on it."

The taxi driver gave a grunt and sped down the street. A few blocks and a few unanswered conversation starters late, the taxi stopped at Jay's bar. George handed the man five dollars and told him to keep the change.

"_After that cab ride I was ready to do whatever was necessary to get the info from Ben, even if it meant I had to sober that moron up."_

George pushed open the door and walked into the bar. He just barely heard the barkeep say something about a "weird customer", but he wasn't listening. His eyes fell right on Ben, who was groping at a nearby waitress. Sighing, George made his way through the crowd to where Ben was sitting.

As George sat down across from Ben in one of those barrel tables, Ben shouted in a drunken joy.

"George! Howyabeen? You know, y…you're one of the nicest guys I've ev…ever known. You come ALLLL the way down here, just to see _me_."

"Calm down Ben, you're not that special, I need some info about a missing heir loom. I think you're just the guy I need to see." George inched his bar stool closer to Ben when Ben beckoned him closer. "Alright, look I'm looking for any info you got on a missing-"

Before George could finish what he was going to say, Ben violently, vomited right next to George. "Aw sonofa…" George rolled his eyes and backed away. He grabbed Ben by his collar and led him to the bathroom quickly. Inside it was empty, George opened a stall and pushed Ben inside, who proceeded to vomit into the toilet. While Ben was occupied with the toilet, George looked under each of the stalls to look for anyone that might be in the room with them. Before returning to Ben, George bolted the bathroom door shut.

By the time George made his way back to Ben, Ben was in dry heaves. George once again grabbed Ben by his collar, turned on the faucet, and shoved his head under the ice cold water. Ben let out a fury of moans and struggled to free himself of George's grip, to no avail.

"Look Ben, I'm gettin' this info one way or another, so you better sober up quickly." George said as he shut off the faucet and pulled Ben's head out of the sink. "Here," George threw the folder on the floor next to Ben.

"Oh, Dear God George," Ben said as loud as he could muster. "Why, would you make me look at those?"

"Ben, I need to know whatever you can tell me about that, I need to know where it is or who I can talk to that might know where it is."

"Look George, I'd like to help you, but this is a bit over my head."

_"I knew what Ben was doing, this was the same old routine we always do, he'd hold out on some info I needed, then I'd drop a bunch of bills in front of him, he'd talk and I'd leave."_

George pulled out a manila envelope and threw it on the floor next to Ben. "Now is it still over your head?"

Ben took the envelope and counted the money inside. "Well, I might know something. I don't know where you can find it, but I think I might know someone who can point you in the right direction."

"It's a start, who?" George crouched close to Ben.

"You need to ask, Ry-" Behind them, a stall banged open and two pops followed. Blood shot out of Ben's chest as two fresh holes were made in the middle of his sternum. George instinctively dove away from where he was sitting. Two more pops, and two holes were created in the wall where George had been. George rolled to his feet with his gun in hand, to see a skinny man diving through the opened bathroom window.

George ran over to the window, to see the man already halfway down the next block. George shook his head in frustration as he put his gun away and turned back to the now dead Ben.

_"I should have known my rotten luck would've come up this night. I at least had something I could work off of, a partial name Ry-something. I would have to work off of that for now, but if all of my informants ended up dying like this, then I wouldn't have a leg to stand on."_

George unlocked the bathroom and walked out of the bar without making a noise. As he walked out of the bar he made his way to the curb and hailed a cab again.

_"As I got into that cab I realized that this may not be as easy a case as I had thought."_


	3. Chapter 3

Music blared, lights flashed, neon signs that depicted dancing men and various alcoholic beverages alternately turned off and on. George stood outside of the night club, jaw slackened awestruck.

"_Dear God, what had I gotten myself into? I stood outside of the nightclub, not sure whether I should go in, or throw up first. After the few minutes it took to compose myself, I decided I had a job to do and despite this little uncomforting feeling, I had to go in."_

As George opened the door, the muffled music blasted his ears, sending a sharp pain down his spine. Once the pain subsided, George walked into the nightclub. Inside, men dressed in all types of leather chaps and tight fitting mesh t-shirts danced and sat around the bar. As George walked up to the bar, he was goosed by one of the men walking behind him, who only winked when confronted.

"_I needed to get out as soon as possible. This club was almost as dangerous to my health as the construction site…maybe worse. I was looking for the owner of the club, but he could have been any one of these men, so I went to the only place I could think of to ask questions: The Bartender."_

George leaned on the bar, but slid down as a man sat next to him. He looked behind the bar for the bartender, but no one was there.

"You lookin' for someone honey?" The man next to him asked as he slid closer to George.

"Uh….uh….The bartender." George said shakily.

"Oh, well you're lookin' in the wrong place then." The man slid his butch arm closer to George. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"No! I mean, no thank you, I'm fine."

"Well, if you ever need someone after you find the bartender, look me up. The name's Yoko Suzuki."

"Wait…but that's a-" The man, woman, thing, was already pestering another customer before George could finish saying anything. As George looked back, the bartender was standing inches from his face.

"Oh! Dear God, you almost gave me a heart attack." George put his hand to his heart.

"_This was already going badly. I was in unfamiliar territory and I just wanted to get out."_

The bartender's unhappy expression showed just the slightest hint of annoyance at George's reaction. "So, I heard you were looking for me. What do you want?"

"I was just looking for the owner of the club. I just need to ask him a few questions."

"Well, just look on the stage." The bartender said as he pointed to the stage, where a man stood singing poorly to some Tina Turner song. He danced around the stage in a hot pink, flamingo dress. Accompanying the dress, was a bright blue boa that twirled with him as he spun around while singing. As the song finished there were excited whistles and cat calls. The man thanked the crowd in a gruffy, nearly drunk voice.

"_Well, this wasn't going to be too difficult I suppose. Although, I couldn't see how he was at all related to my case. It was my duty to find out as many leads as possible and get back that dame's heirloom."_

George walked up to the stage and looked at the man, who was thanking some people and giving kisses. "You, uh….Kevin Ryman?"

"Yeah, what do you need sexy?" Kevin walked up to George and pulled off his wig, revealing perfectly maintained hair that fell vicariously across his face, down to his shoulders. Flipping the stray strands out of his face, Kevin smiled at George. Kevin placed he hand on George's trench coat and rubbed it up and down, feeling the fabric. "Oh, come _on_, you call this fashionable? What kind of a man are you?"

"Well…I…uh, well." George couldn't find the words to defend his choice of cloths. George shook his head, coming to his senses. "Wait, I need to ask you some questions, about a missing heirloom."

Kevin raised one eyebrow in faux confusion. "What would make you think _I_ would know anything about that?"

"Cut the crap, Ryman. I know you deal in this kind of thing, so I want to know just what the hell is going on." George flashed his gun to reinforce the idea of how necessary it was for Kevin to talk.

"My, my no need for that you strong," Kevin felt George's arm, "Strong, man."

Kevin flipped the boa over his shoulder and led George into a back room. As Kevin walked, he thanked some men who complimented his performance. In the back was a room separated by a beaded divider, which opened up into another room that had a sound proof door.

"I do _all_ of my private things back here." Kevin said as he opened the door and pushed George inside.

The room smelled sweet, almost enchanting, the smell was intoxicating George. Kevin chuckled, as he saw the expression on George's face. "Like it? It's lavender."

"_I couldn't place my finger on it, but something wasn't right about this. It was almost too easy to get him to be willing to talk. I would have to be careful."_

"Now, look-"

"You want something to drink?" Kevin interrupted as he popped open one of the glass bottles sitting on his desk. George shook his head no and tried to continue.

"Look, I want to know-"

"Business, business; is that all you think about?" Kevin walked slowly over to George, sipping a glass of a strong smelling liquor. George suddenly felt odd, almost like he was a little dizzy. "Why don't you just try to relax for once?"

He shook his head, figuring it was the lack of sleep. Feeling a little better, he answered, "I'd rather not, I just need to find this woman's t–"

"Hey, hey, calm down. I'll tell you where it is."

"So you know."

"Maybe."

"_I wasn't getting anywhere with him. He was toying with me and I could tell, but I didn't know what he was after. I would have to try and get the info out of him, but with this little show, I didn't think he was going to submit to force."_

Kevin pulled out a chair and offered it to George. George, relieved to be off of his feet, sat down and looked around the room as Kevin walked behind the desk and sat down in his own chair.

"So, you want to know where this…..this 'object' is then?" Kevin took another sip and put down his glass. He sat forward and leaned on the desk. "Okay, I think I might know what you're looking for."

"Good, then you can tell me where it is."

"Oh, of course not." Kevin stood up quickly. "What good would that do _me_?"

"Well, I wouldn't have to kill you."

"Kill _me_?" Kevin burst out laughing. "That's funny, because you can't do that. Not in here at least."

"What're you talking about?" A sudden flash of fear over took George.

"_I had no idea what he could mean. Why couldn't I get to him in here? What was so different about this place? I needed to find out the answers, but I didn't think I had time on my side. If he was going to do something it was going to be soon."_

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough." Kevin crossed the room and looked at a painting on the wall. "You know it's pretty sad that not enough people can just enjoy art these days. They just don't understand it's value." Kevin took the painting off of the wall. "See? Isn't this just beautiful?"

George couldn't think, questions were racing through his mind. Even without the cloudy, odd feeling it was difficult, but with it comprehending everything was impossible. His head ached with the strain.

"Are you feeling okay? You don't look so good." Kevin sounded honestly worried. "Here, you need some water?"

Kevin poured a glass before George could answer, handing it to him. George couldn't muster the strength to refuse, so he just pushed away Kevin's hand. Gnawing pain stabbed at his stomach and heart.

"Now, now if you don't drink the poison will kill you."

George's heart skipped a beat; he fell out of the chair and twisted in agony on the ground. Poison? When had he been poisoned?

"_I let my guard down and I got burnt for it. It was my own damned fault. I shouldn't of trusted him as much as I did."_

George sipped the water slowly. Kevin mumbled words of praise and good will as George slowly downed the whole glass. After the glass was drained, Kevin placed it on the desk and stood over George's prone body.

"Did you honestly believe that I would just let you waltz in here and demand to know my dealings with other people?" Kevin paused and moved his hand as he continued, "So, you liked the lavender? My own brew. It's a paralytic usually, clouding your mind and giving you a small head ache at first, then comes the pain and the inability to move and if you don't dilute it soon the next step is death."

"_I was in a situation I had no idea how to get out of, and things didn't look good. I had no idea what he was going to do to me, and I couldn't stop it if I tried. I was powerless to do anything to stop him."_

Kevin walked to the door and called something out to his guards. George wasn't paying much attention, the room was spinning and he was just trying his hardest to not throw up. Soon the lights seemed to dim down, and eventually everything just went black.


	4. Chapter 4

Music blared, lights flashed, neon signs that depicted dancing men and various alcoholic beverages alternately turned off and on. George stood outside of the night club, jaw slackened awestruck.

"_Dear God, what had I gotten myself into? I stood outside of the nightclub, not sure whether I should go in, or throw up first. After the few minutes it took to compose myself, I decided I had a job to do and despite this little uncomforting feeling, I had to go in."_

As George opened the door, the muffled music blasted his ears, sending a sharp pain down his spine. Once the pain subsided, George walked into the nightclub. Inside, men dressed in all types of leather chaps and tight fitting mesh t-shirts danced and sat around the bar. As George walked up to the bar, he was goosed by one of the men walking behind him, who only winked when confronted.

"_I needed to get out as soon as possible. This club was almost as dangerous to my health as the construction site…maybe worse. I was looking for the owner of the club, but he could have been any one of these men, so I went to the only place I could think of to ask questions: The Bartender."_

George leaned on the bar, but slid down as a man sat next to him. He looked behind the bar for the bartender, but no one was there.

"You lookin' for someone honey?" The man next to him asked as he slid closer to George.

"Uh….uh….The bartender." George said shakily.

"Oh, well you're lookin' in the wrong place then." The man slid his butch arm closer to George. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"No! I mean, no thank you, I'm fine."

"Well, if you ever need someone after you find the bartender, look me up. The name's Yoko Suzuki."

"Wait…but that's a-" The man, woman, thing, was already pestering another customer before George could finish saying anything. As George looked back, the bartender was standing inches from his face.

"Oh! Dear God, you almost gave me a heart attack." George put his hand to his heart.

"_This was already going badly. I was in unfamiliar territory and I just wanted to get out."_

The bartender's unhappy expression showed just the slightest hint of annoyance at George's reaction. "So, I heard you were looking for me. What do you want?"

"I was just looking for the owner of the club. I just need to ask him a few questions."

"Well, just look on the stage." The bartender said as he pointed to the stage, where a man stood singing poorly to some Tina Turner song. He danced around the stage in a hot pink, flamingo dress. Accompanying the dress, was a bright blue boa that twirled with him as he spun around while singing. As the song finished there were excited whistles and cat calls. The man thanked the crowd in a gruffy, nearly drunk voice.

"_Well, this wasn't going to be too difficult I suppose. Although, I couldn't see how he was at all related to my case. It was my duty to find out as many leads as possible and get back that dame's heirloom."_

George walked up to the stage and looked at the man, who was thanking some people and giving kisses. "You, uh….Kevin Ryman?"

"Yeah, what do you need sexy?" Kevin walked up to George and pulled off his wig, revealing perfectly maintained hair that fell vicariously across his face, down to his shoulders. Flipping the stray strands out of his face, Kevin smiled at George. Kevin placed he hand on George's trench coat and rubbed it up and down, feeling the fabric. "Oh, come _on_, you call this fashionable? What kind of a man are you?"

"Well…I…uh, well." George couldn't find the words to defend his choice of cloths. George shook his head, coming to his senses. "Wait, I need to ask you some questions, about a missing heirloom."

Kevin raised one eyebrow in faux confusion. "What would make you think _I_ would know anything about that?"

"Cut the crap, Ryman. I know you deal in this kind of thing, so I want to know just what the hell is going on." George flashed his gun to reinforce the idea of how necessary it was for Kevin to talk.

"My, my no need for that you strong," Kevin felt George's arm, "Strong, man."

Kevin flipped the boa over his shoulder and led George into a back room. As Kevin walked, he thanked some men who complimented his performance. In the back was a room separated by a beaded divider, which opened up into another room that had a sound proof door.

"I do _all_ of my private things back here." Kevin said as he opened the door and pushed George inside.

The room smelled sweet, almost enchanting, the smell was intoxicating George. Kevin chuckled, as he saw the expression on George's face. "Like it? It's lavender."

"_I couldn't place my finger on it, but something wasn't right about this. It was almost too easy to get him to be willing to talk. I would have to be careful."_

"Now, look-"

"You want something to drink?" Kevin interrupted as he popped open one of the glass bottles sitting on his desk. George shook his head no and tried to continue.

"Look, I want to know-"

"Business, business; is that all you think about?" Kevin walked slowly over to George, sipping a glass of a strong smelling liquor. George suddenly felt odd, almost like he was a little dizzy. "Why don't you just try to relax for once?"

He shook his head, figuring it was the lack of sleep. Feeling a little better, he answered, "I'd rather not, I just need to find this woman's t–"

"Hey, hey, calm down. I'll tell you where it is."

"So you know."

"Maybe."

"_I wasn't getting anywhere with him. He was toying with me and I could tell, but I didn't know what he was after. I would have to try and get the info out of him, but with this little show, I didn't think he was going to submit to force."_

Kevin pulled out a chair and offered it to George. George, relieved to be off of his feet, sat down and looked around the room as Kevin walked behind the desk and sat down in his own chair.

"So, you want to know where this…..this 'object' is then?" Kevin took another sip and put down his glass. He sat forward and leaned on the desk. "Okay, I think I might know what you're looking for."

"Good, then you can tell me where it is."

"Oh, of course not." Kevin stood up quickly. "What good would that do _me_?"

"Well, I wouldn't have to kill you."

"Kill _me_?" Kevin burst out laughing. "That's funny, because you can't do that. Not in here at least."

"What're you talking about?" A sudden flash of fear over took George.

"_I had no idea what he could mean. Why couldn't I get to him in here? What was so different about this place? I needed to find out the answers, but I didn't think I had time on my side. If he was going to do something it was going to be soon."_

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough." Kevin crossed the room and looked at a painting on the wall. "You know it's pretty sad that not enough people can just enjoy art these days. They just don't understand it's value." Kevin took the painting off of the wall. "See? Isn't this just beautiful?"

George couldn't think, questions were racing through his mind. Even without the cloudy, odd feeling it was difficult, but with it comprehending everything was impossible. His head ached with the strain.

"Are you feeling okay? You don't look so good." Kevin sounded honestly worried. "Here, you need some water?"

Kevin poured a glass before George could answer, handing it to him. George couldn't muster the strength to refuse, so he just pushed away Kevin's hand. Gnawing pain stabbed at his stomach and heart.

"Now, now if you don't drink the poison will kill you."

George's heart skipped a beat; he fell out of the chair and twisted in agony on the ground. Poison? When had he been poisoned?

"_I let my guard down and I got burnt for it. It was my own damned fault. I shouldn't of trusted him as much as I did."_

George sipped the water slowly. Kevin mumbled words of praise and good will as George slowly downed the whole glass. After the glass was drained, Kevin placed it on the desk and stood over George's prone body.

"Did you honestly believe that I would just let you waltz in here and demand to know my dealings with other people?" Kevin paused and moved his hand as he continued, "So, you liked the lavender? My own brew. It's a paralytic usually, clouding your mind and giving you a small head ache at first, then comes the pain and the inability to move and if you don't dilute it soon the next step is death."

"_I was in a situation I had no idea how to get out of, and things didn't look good. I had no idea what he was going to do to me, and I couldn't stop it if I tried. I was powerless to do anything to stop him."_

Kevin walked to the door and called something out to his guards. George wasn't paying much attention, the room was spinning and he was just trying his hardest to not throw up. Soon the lights seemed to dim down, and eventually everything just went black.


	5. Chapter 5

There was a sweet smell, then a choking sensation as it turned bitter and strong almost instantly. George coughed as he tried to stop the burning in his lungs. It felt like he had just snorted an entire bottle of ammonia. As his eyes tried to focus on his new surroundings, he saw Kevin standing before him still in his eccentric clothing. The room was still spinning, but George was beginning to make it slow. A pounding sensation in his head told him that his headache was still very much active even though it hurt a lot less.

"Ah, you're awake. I was wondering if you'd died, which I don't think I would care about. Although, it wouldn't allow me to have my fun with you." Kevin walked around him playing with something in his hand. George tried to move, but found himself bound to a table.

"What're you going to do?" George asked in a raspy voice.

"Oh, you know…a little of this…a little of that." Kevin said as he continued to pace around the table. It was then that George noticed that he was only in his underwear. He had red X's over his pectorals and down near his belly button. 

"_I was in a damn predicament. I had to find a way out before I figured out what those X's were for. I didn't have much I could do, but I would be damned if I couldn't get these ropes off. Fighting off the idea of just giving up, thoughts of escape ran through my mind. There was no way I was going to let this shuckster get away with this."_

Kevin took out a cigarette from one of the dress' pockets, lit it with a match, and took a single long drag before pulling it out and blowing smoke into George's face. The smoke filled his lungs, burning all the while. George squirmed on the table. Kevin laughed and pushed down on his bare chest, holding him still.

"Keep still or while were cutting, you might get hurt," Kevin laughed manically, "We're only going to make sure you don't go snooping around anymore."

In his hands, Kevin twirled a rusted scalpel around between his fingers, dancing the blade in and out of each finger before spinning it in his hand and catching it again in his fist. Kevin traced one of the X's on his right pectoral, blood followed the blade closely. George screamed out in pain, it felt like his skin was being ripped from his chest. He forced his tongue deep into his mouth, so he wouldn't bite it off.

Kevin dipped the blade in his blood, covering both sides in the viscous, red liquid. Kevin dangled the blade over George's face, letting blood droplets fall on his face. He lightly dragged the scalpel along his cheek, leaving streaks down each side.

"I don't know where this blind devotion to this dame is coming from, but I assure you that it's going to end in your death, Mr. Hamilton." Kevin cleared the blood from George's cheek with his index finger. "Now, who is it that sent you for this…heirloom?"

"Heh, I can't tell one dame from another, you know. I get solicited all the time." George laughed and coughed. His head rolled to one side, drool fell down his face, mixing with the blood. Kevin violently grabbed his face and twisted it back to face him.

"You think you're funny then?" Kevin rhetorically asked, and before George could even think of answering he back handed him in the face. Salty blood leaked out of a new cut in his mouth. George coughed out some excess blood, and spit as hard as he could into Kevin's face.

Kevin's face was scarlet with rage, but he soon cooled down and moved away from George. He ran his hand down his wet chest, trailing sweat and blood down his chest, to his stomach and his thigh. Without warning, Kevin slammed the scalpel into George's thigh. A loud scream echoed in the room and surrounding hallways. Tears cascaded out of George's eyes.

Kevin, with his hand still on the blade, leaned in close to George's face. "Oh, sorry; did that hurt?" Kevin paused to wipe away one of George's tears. "Well then, I'll ask one more time, who sent you on this case?"

George paused trying to catch his breath; he wiggled his hands to get a little more comfortable, feeling the rope slacken a bit his heart jumped for joy.

"_The rope was coming undone, but I had to keep that to myself until I knew I could take them. I couldn't let the fairy know I was getting loose or my chance would be lost. I also had to somehow get that knife from him, but in this state, I wasn't going to easily get that done."_

George sighed and turned to Kevin, looking him straight in the eyes, he started. "Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful-"

"Shut up." Kevin twisted the knife in George's thigh. Pain shot up his leg and over took his entire body. He screamed louder than he had ever screamed before followed by a few sharp twitches. George turned his head to the side and fell into a fit of dry heaves. Kevin slammed his fist down hard into his stomach and twisted the scalpel back out.

George stifled the cry that was brewing in the back of his throat. Kevin tossed the scalpel on a table nearby. He paced back and forth, trying to figure out what he was going to do. Finally, Kevin walked to the door and called in some of his guards. He whispered something George couldn't hear, and the guards left quickly.

"Well, it seems since you refuse to talk, I have to use some…shall we say, extreme measures?" Kevin walked up to the side of the table and looked down at George. "It's such a shame to let this all go to waste."

The guards came back with a bottle of a foul smelling liquid and put it on the table with the scalpel. 

"Leave me." Kevin gave a flick of his hand and the guards all shuffled out of the room. When they were gone Kevin gave George a wink and turned to the bottle. "You know, it pains me to have to give you this,"

"_Now was my chance, his back was turned mixing that strange concoction. If I could get free and take him out without the guards hearing, I might have a chance."_

George wrestled with the ropes at his hands, trying to free himself.

"But you left me no choice. Once I make it, and inject it in you,"

The ropes started to give way, loosening enough for George to move his hands further and further. Kevin started to turn around. George froze in place as Kevin looked at him before continuing mixing.

"There'll be no way for you to not answer my questions, it only pains me that you won't have the consciousness left to endure the pain I plan on giving you."

George freed his hands and sat up; ignoring the pain it caused him, and untied his legs.

"You see, this drug is much like a truth serum, but the only difference is that you won't be able to wake up afterwards; quite ingenious if I do say so myself."

George was already behind him as he started to turn around with the ropes in his hands. Quickly, George slipped the ropes over Kevin's throat and pulled tight. Kevin struggled, but couldn't scream, the rope was too tight around his throat. George held on for his life, if he let go it was all over, he would never escape and see life again.

It didn't take long for Kevin to stop flailing, his movements began to get slower and his resistance all but stopped. George watched as his eyes rolled back into his head and felt Kevin's body slacken. He let the corpse fall to the ground silently, and grabbed the needle and scalpel. As George approached the door, he heard the melodic, counted, footsteps of a guard pacing back and forth just outside. Finally, once he heard the footsteps go past the door; George pushed the door open slightly and peered out.

"_I would have to escape, and do it silently at that because if I was spotted the entire place would be coming down on me in an instant. So, if I had to I would kill the guards as long as it meant that I wouldn't be discovered."_

The hallway stretched in either direction, but George couldn't see the ends of the hallways. It looked like this was the only room in the entire area and yet that didn't make sense because of the sheer size of the area. The whole thing made George dizzy; he decided not to think about anything but escape. As he was about to exit the room, he heard the guard's footsteps echoing in the hallway again. George quietly shut the door and waited for the footsteps to pass the door once again.

Now with no guards outside, George pushed the door open completely and walked out. The guard had his back to him, so George crouched down low and walked up behind him. With the needle, he stabbed the man in the neck and injected the liquid. The man let out a low, short cry in surprise, but drifted off 

into a stupor. With a great effort, George moved the body into the room and looked back into the hallway.

He chose to follow the right hallway and ran slowly alongside the wall. As he reached the corner, he saw another guard, walking back and forth, up and down the hall. George waited until he saw the guard turn around before rounding the corner and crouching behind the guard. With a quick jab, he plunged the scalpel into the guard's kidney. The pain and shock of it clenched the guard's throat shut, preventing a single sound from escaping his mouth. George moved the body into a shadowed out cove and proceeded down the hall.

About halfway between the ends of the hallway was another opening into another hallway. At the T-intersection, George stopped and looked down the new path. There were no guards, but there was a door that George could partially read.

_-ssing Room_

"_I came upon a new path that led to a door that I thought was the Dressing Room, I needed to find clothes anyway because running around mostly naked was not the best way to escape. I decided to go and find some clothes in there and hope that nobody was getting changed."_

George slowly crept down the hallway, stopping every time he though he heard a noise. His heart slammed hard against his chest as he reached the door and turned the knob. The door opened and revealed rows of lockers, all with clothing in them. George walked up to the first locker and looked at the clothes; he searched until he found something that fit him. He cringed as he put on the smelly, ragged jeans and the sweaty t-shirt.

After, with nothing left to do in the room, George peered out the door and finding the hall still empty, walked out. He continued his escape from where he left off. The T-intersection was still clear of any guards, which gave George some hope that he might be able to escape. George walked slowly down to the other end of the corridor and stopped in his tracks.

Voices, he heard voices. Two, maybe three, he couldn't be sure. They were talking about him and throwing back and forth ideas about what Kevin was going to do to him. George mostly ignored the conversation, but focused on how he was going to get passed all of them. 

"_I was in a pickle that's for sure. I didn't know what to do. I could double back, but there might've been more guards that way and there was no chance of me escaping if there were more guards back the way I came. I had to figure a way around them or getting passed them without them knowing it was me. That was when I felt it."_

There was a bulge in the back of his jeans, and George reached behind to find out what it was. There, clipped to one of the eye holes for a belt, was a baseball cap.

"_It could just work, I was about the same build as whoever wore these clothes anyway, if I could just wear this cap and walk out, having them think I was the guy who owned the clothes, then it might work. _

_The only problem that kept me from doing it was if any of the guards out there owned the clothes. I had to try though, there was no better plan that I could think of."_

George unclipped the hat and put it on his head, pushing the brim down low. He stood up and walked out as nonchalantly as he could. The guards stopped their conversation to look at George. One of them spoke up.

"You done your shift already Bill?" He asked. George mumbled incoherently and nodded. "Eh, see ya tomorrow then."

George nodded once more and waved as he started up the stairs that led to the door. As he was about to leave, one of the guards stopped him.

"Oh, Bill, don't forget cards on Saturday, okay?" He clapped him on the chest. The shock and pain of it forced its way through the open wounds and into his skull, it felt like his whole being exploded. George groaned loudly in pain and clutched his chest.

"_Of all the damned things to do, he had to hit right where Kevin cut me. I knew they were going to discover I wasn't Bill; I just had no idea what I was going to do. My mind raced with the options open to me. I could take one of them hostage, I still had the scalpel, but they might shoot me before I could even get one of them. I could escape, but that didn't have a good chance. So, left with nothing else, I said a soft prayer to myself and resigned to death, sad that this was going to be my last case."_

"Bill, are you alright?" The man, who hit George in the chest, looked under the cap to see his face. "Wait, what the hell? You're not Bill!"

All of the guards pulled out their weapons and aimed them at George. Quickly, George pulled out the scalpel and took hold of the closest guard to him.

"_Screw death, if I was going to die I was at least going to take out one of these bastards with me."_

George put the scalpel to the man's throat and walked slowly to the door. "If you shoot, he dies. You keep that in mind!"

The door was only a few yards away, but the guards were getting closer and it was tough to keep the man from squirming enough to get free. As he approached the door, George was getting weak and weary; it took a great effort, just to keep the man tight against his body. The door was now only one or two yards away, but George wasn't going to make it. He had to, this was the only way out, it was so close, but he couldn't keep going.

Just a bit farther, just a bit farther. It was within his grasp, but he couldn't keep it going, he had failed. He knew death was next.

The man slammed his elbow into George's stomach when he felt the arm holding him against George's body let go a little. George released the man and grabbed his stomach in pain. As the man reached for his gun and called for his friends to shoot the intruder, George fell on his knees and doubled over.

The entire situation seemed to go in slow motion, George felt like everything was happening so slowly and yet, he was moving normally. He felt the warm blood trickle down the wound in his chest and touched the outside of the shirt where he knew the wound to be. The blood soaked through the shirt and George could feel the warmth on his finger tips. He looked up at the now free man as he bent down to pick up the gun he had dropped.

From behind him, George heard the doors slam open, probably more guards coming to restrain and kill the prisoner. Everything was hopeless and George was powerless to stop any of it. He resigned himself softly to death, hoping that when he does die, he will go to heaven and not hell despite all of the horrible things he had done. He recalled some of the things he did in the past and relived them quickly. He supposed this was what people saw before they died, the proverbial 'life flashing before your eyes'.

Something was wrong though, he felt a hand shove him to the ground, but that was it. No handcuffs, no gun to the head. He heard an angelic voice shouting in his ear. Telling him to stay down. He heard gun shots, three quick bursts, and then silence. The hand was there again, pulling him up. Then the voice again, speaking to him; more softly this time. It was a woman, he could tell that, but nothing else. She was trying to get his attention, George wanted to give it to her but he was having a difficult time, he tried to focus, to focus on her words.

With a great wallop, she slapped him. The shock and pain forced his mind to grasp everything that was going on. Her figure started to come into focus. George saw short blond hair; further down he found himself staring right into her beautiful, blue eyes. She wore an all black outfit, with a vest that held several things from keys to handguns.

George shook his head and mumbled his gratitude. He forced himself to stop staring at her and chose to look instead at the men she had taken out.

"Look, are you okay to walk?" The mysterious woman asked George as she looked him over.

"Yeah…yeah I should be fine." George rubbed his head as he spoke. "Hey, thanks for the rescue. I thought I was going to meet my maker."

"You almost were, I was coming for you, but it looks like I came a little later than I had expected."

"You were coming for me?" George was thoroughly puzzled.

"That's correct; you're not the only one on this case." She paused and reached into the pack on her back. She pulled out George's clothing and other accoutrements. "You look horrible in that get-up, here try these on."

George pulled off the stained t-shirt and saw the woman's eyes roam down to the wound on his chest. He ignored her wandering eyes and pulled on his own shirt, then looked at her for a second. She got the hint and turned around as George pulled down his pants and changed into his own dress pants. Finally, he tied on his spats and placed his small pistol in his coat pocket. He tipped his hat to her and she smiled.

"Name's George, what's yours?"

"Rita." She said shortly.

"Well, Rita it looks like we better split." George said and he turned to leave, but Rita held onto his arm.

"Wait, there's something we have to get first. There are some papers in Ryman's office that we need."

"You, know you never did tell me who sent you; was it that dame Cindy?"

"No, no, no you're dealing with some people a little higher up than some floozy who paid you a little cash to find her things. This is more on a governmental level now." Rita said as she led him through the maze of hallways and tunnels until they found their way back into the club.

From here, they walked back to Kevin's office. George noticed that the guards were all knocked unconscious and stashed into well hidden places, so no one would find them.

"_This dame knew her stuff. I thought I was in love instantly, I don't think I've ever met a woman who could hold her own against well trained guys like these. I would have to try and keep my thoughts on the case though, couldn't let her slip me up."_

They reached the office, and Rita started searching the cabinets and desk drawers instantly. Without a word, she motioned for George to start his search too. There were documents that had dealings with almost every crime boss and petty criminal in the entire state. It was a tough job sorting through the false leads and the real ones.

"_I was pretty sure that Rita wasn't going to let me keep any of the documents that I found, she was going to pull the old 'government agent has higher priority' shtick on me. So when I found something I knew was important I did what I could to retain my own copy."_

George took out a small camera and photographed all of the papers he found even remotely important. While Rita's back was turned he continued photographing, but quickly hid the camera when she turned back towards him.

"Found some stuff over here," George said holding the papers in one hand. Rita walked over and grabbed them out of his hand and put them in the bag. "Hey, whoa, hold your horses there sweet cheeks. I'm on this case too, so I think I deserve some respect here."

"Yeah, I'll mention your name on my case report." Rita smiled and walked out of the office with the documents in hand. George smiled and followed her out. They walked out of the club without a hitch, well if you count everything but the occasional goosing and cat call.


	6. Chapter 6

With a great shove, George fell out of the car and rolled onto the side walk outside of his office building. He dusted himself off and walked into the building. The long climb up allowed him some thinking time.

"_I would have to go about this as simply and smoothly as possible. I had to try and get this done without stepping on too many toes, or any if possible. So, I was left with sneaking around and getting the job done quietly."_

George took the camera out of his pocket and threw his over coat onto a hook. Walking into the bathroom, George took some rubbing alcohol, needle and thread. He pulled off his pants and dumped part of the rubbing alcohol bottle onto the wound on his thigh. A loud groan escaped his throat and continued until the pain subsided. Quickly, George stitched up the wound and repeated the process for the cuts on his chest.

After he fixed himself up, George took the film out of the camera and started to work on it in his dark room. Dipping and dunking the photos in each chemical bath, then hanging them up to dry. As the pictures started to become visible, he threw out the ones that were too blurry to read and tried to read those that came out clear enough.

Once all the pictures were developed, George had a hefty number of documents that were legible enough to read. Most were garbage though.

"_Well, all that work was for nothing. I had done a job and a half with those pictures and all I got were unpaid taxes, petty crimes, and other worthless things. I was about to pack up and leave when I noticed one that might have been some use to me."_

George stopped and took the last picture off of the clothes pins that were holding it. He flicked the picture and smiled.

"_Hot damn! I felt like I had struck a gold mine. It was an invoice for an off shore import company, most likely they wouldn't be doing very much legal business. I decided to check them out and hope that there would be some leads I could find there."_

George looked at his watch, three-thirty-six. He'd have to wait until night to do anything. The couch seemed a reasonable place to be right about then. As soon as his head hit the pillow, George fell into a deep slumber.

-----

Darkness enveloped the small office and the sound of his watch alarm was blaring in his ear, worsening his already pounding headache. George sat up quickly, wiping the sleep from his eyes and looking at his watch. It was Nine O'clock sharp.

Night had fallen and George had to be going. He grabbed his trench coat as he left.

The taxi dropped him off a few blocks away from the docks because George didn't want to be spotted. There were a few guys still unloading boxes off of a truck and onto a small dingy. George took out his pistol and crouched behind some crates when he came as close as he was willing to risk.

The men were talking loudly and laughing about some game they had seen the night before, but George wasn't paying much attention to them. He instead was looking at the boxes; they had no markings on them, not a single thing from where they were from or where they were going. George walked among the crates some more, trying to get a bit closer. 

The workers didn't notice him as he approached. Using the boxes as cover, George snuck into the warehouse they were loading the boxes into. Inside, the room was full of the boxes that looked just like the ones they were loading in. With no one around, George took a crowbar and opened one of the boxes.

Styrofoam packing peanuts fell out of the opened box. George rummaged around, feeling for what it was they were transporting, but he felt nothing. Confused, George opened another box and again found nothing.

"_It was strange to say the least. I can't say I didn't feel like I was walking into another trap, but for some reason I thought there was more to it this time. I needed answers and in order to do that I needed to search around for some records of what was shipped. The only place to find that was the head-honcho's office."_

George quietly put the crowbar down and put the lids back on the boxes. Working his way around the room, he came to an office that looked bigger and more important than the others. The door creaked open as George walked in, gun ready in his hand. There was a small computer on the desk and enough furnishings to make it seem like a legit office from the outside, but nothing else in the office.

Quickly, George walked over the desk and began rummaging around through the drawers. Nothing.

He hit the power button on the computer tower and waited. The screen glowed for a second, but when it booted up there were only two folders on the desk top. One, set up by the company that made the computer and another that was untitled. George clicked the folder and was astonished at what popped up. Videos, videos of what looked like test footage.

"_This might have been the break-through I had been looking for."_

George opened the first video labeled "96305". The video loaded up and showed a man with graying hair wearing a lab gown. He adjusted his glasses and began talking. No sound came.

He pressed the pause button on the video and searched around for speakers. Finding nothing, George decided he would have to make do with the video. The man, George assumed he was some sort of scientist, walked with the camera to a metal table. On it was a panting Doberman; the dog looked to be wounded along its hindquarters. Blood leaked onto the table. The scientist pointed to the gash and ran his hand along the gash just above the wound. He explained something in more detail before picking up 

a needle and injecting it into the dog. Almost immediately, the wound cinched itself closed and healed, even growing new hair where the old hair was. The scientist put down the needle, talked some more and shut the camera off. The video stopped.

Amazed by this new discovery, George clicked open the next video as soon as the other ended. The same scientist stood in the same position once more explaining something. He moved over to the table again and this time there was a naked woman on the table. She had a large wound going from stomach to her ribs, just below her breast. She was in obvious pain, screaming. The scientist again ran his hand along the wound and talked before injecting her with a needle of a different color. At first nothing happened, but soon after she violently convulsed, twitching shivering. Her skin began to change color, growing paler each passing second until she was almost a pure milky white. Then suddenly she stopped moving. Sometime during the whole procedure George missed that the wound closed and healed over, not even leaving a scar. She gradually regained her original color and began breathing normally.

Before the video ended, words noting the change in her skin flashed on the screen. The video ended and George looked for more videos, but couldn't find any.

"_Those videos were the type of info I needed. There had to be some way for me to copy them, some way for me to use them to get that dame's heirloom back."_

He sighed when he remembered that there was nothing in this office. He looked to the door to make sure no one was near and left to go to another office.

The office wasn't far away, but it looked much like the other one, just a bit smaller. George moaned in frustration and continued his search until he found one "legitimate" office that was slightly more furnished. He took a memory stick from one of the drawers and went back to the other office, skirting around various boxes to avoid some workers.

Once inside, George went right to work on the computer, shoving in the memory stick and copying the files. Because of the size of the videos, it was going to take a few minutes. George waited while checking out the door for more people. No one was coming and the files were at fifty percent. That was when he heard him.

A man's voice, gruff and ridden with the sounds of a chain smoker was approaching the office. He sounded like he meant to come in and lounge around. George's heart skipped a beat. He needed a place to hide and pray that he didn't see the computer on. 

The man stretched his neck and rubbed his hairy chin. He felt his chest for the bulge of the pack of cigarettes. Pulling it out, he stopped; putting one in his mouth before continuing. It was his job to pack up the offices and put everything in boxes. He lit the cigarette as he walked into the office and walked over to the computer.

George's heart hammered in his chest, threatening to jump out. He was surprised the man hadn't heard it. Two legs stood right in front of his hiding spot.

"What the hell?" He asked, bobbing his cigarette as he spoke. From underneath the desk as foot smashed into his shin. The force knocked him onto his knees. George slammed his fist into the man's face.

"You know, that stuff will kill you," George said taking the cigarette and throwing it on the ground before punching him one last time. The screen flashed to show that the copying was done. George removed the memory stick, deleted the files and was about to leave.

"Well, seems you were a bit ahead of us on this." Her blond hair bounced as she walked up to George. He was staring into her beautiful blue eyes that reminded him of two deep blue oceans. Equally as beautiful.

Rita walked around to the computer and started clicking. "So what did you find?"

"Not all that much, but it shouldn't be too hard for your agency to recover whatever was on that computer." George walked away with a wave.

She had rendered the guards unconscious making his escape easy.

"_I can't say I didn't feel good about leaving like that. I liked being the one with all the information for once, felt like I actually had power for once. Power, that was a funny thing I never felt before. Regardless, it was these videos that were going to lead me to the end of this case. All I had to do was find some clue as to where that lab was."_


	7. Chapter 7

He left the docks behind him as he walked down the street and looked to hail another cab. Sadly, none came his way, so he had to walk into the city. His gun was heavy in his pocket as he walked through a rough neighborhood. He checked his surroundings every so often and soon found himself in front of a computer café.

_I wanted to get out of the streets for a while and maybe this café wouldn't mind letting me use one of their computers to get a better look at those videos._

George opened the door and walked in. He put some money on the counter and asked for some time on the computers. As he was about to walk away, he looked beyond the counter and saw some headphones for sale. George nodded towards the headphones and put some more money on the counter.

He sat down in front of the computer and tore open the package with his teeth. The monitor hummed as it clicked on. George input the password and username.

Now, logged in, George put on the headphones and put in the flash drive. The videos popped up and George clicked on the first one. Again the scientist stood before the camera.

"Today is the first live test of the experiment codename: Blackout. I have procured an injured Canine. I am testing the virus' recuperative abilities." The scientist said as he went about his business. He took a syringe and began to speak again. "I am now injecting the Canine with 15 CCs of Blackout. I am expecting a full recovery of this injury."

He passed his hand over the wound. The man stepped back and looked at his watch, counting the seconds. The skin merged where it was split and healed over, without a scar.

"Success!" He said excitedly. "As you can see, the wound is no longer there, no scars remain. The skin cells have reacted perfectly at an accelerated rate. Next, because of this success, I will be testing this on a human subject." The video cut off. George stretched and looked around. He hadn't eaten in a while and considered going to the bar in the café, but was turned off by a particularly large black man sitting at one of the tables, who was pestering the waitress.

"Where's yo katchup at?" He said as he shifted his large gait around. "I can't eat mah sub without no katchup. Even in 'Nam we had katchup ter put on the steaming piles of CRAP we had ter eat." His eye began to twitch as he continued his rant.

"Do you know what we had ter do in 'Nam to git sumptin ter eat? I swear I once had ter eat an entire village of BABIES ter survive! AND I DID IT WITH KATCHUP!"

The waitress hurried over to the table shakily with a bottle of ketchup. He took the bottle and poured half of it on his sandwich and devoured it in only a few bites. George couldn't look away from him, it was like staring at a train wreck happening.

He shook his head and looked back at the computer, trying not to think about the man. He clicked on the second video and started to watch it.

For the second time, the same man was standing in front of the camera.

"May 28, 1998 the first human test of codename: Blackout. With a successful animal test done, I have decided that I should move onto a human subject." There was loud screaming in the background and the scientist had to talk over the screaming. "I have once again procured a test subject and she is injured just the way the canine was, with a cut following from under her breast to the abdominal area." He traced the wound.

"Again I hope to see the recovery process sped up, while still keeping the same results." He took a needle from a table nearby and injected the woman with it. She was still screaming, but nothing was happening. George noticed that the scientist's face was contorted, fearing that this experiment might not work. Suddenly, the woman vomited and started to convulse. Her whole body began to twitch and shake. Her pigment grew paler and paler until it turned a milky white. While she was shaking, the wound started to heal over. The skin coming together, the bleeding stopped. Finally, she stopped moving and lay still on the table. Her breathing regulated and her skin started to turn back to normal.

"Well, I think we can call this a success." The scientist clapped as he spoke. The same words noting the change in her skin appeared and the video ended again.

George watched both videos over and over again, noting certain details he spotted on a note pad he had bought at the store. Looking for any details that would help him find out where the lab is, George ran through the videos once more. Finally on the second video, he stopped the video, looking at the reflection on a beaker. He could faintly make out a logo from one of the windows not shown on the video. Stopping the video, George stared closely trying to see what it was. He zoomed in as much as the video quality would allow him to go. It looked like a black dot surrounded by alternating red and white stripes.

"Where have I seen that logo before?" George asked himself as the computer's time ran out. "Damn, just what I need."

George gathered his things and began to get up. He quickly sketched the image out onto the note pad for further reference. Before he left he heard the man at the bar again, shouting at the waiter.

"Over here soldier! Front and center with mah frahs!"

A cool breeze greeted George, with the over cast skies though, he couldn't be too happy to be outside once more. The sun, though, was starting to peek over the clouds bathing everything in a warm orange glow.

George began down the street and turned every-so-often to try and hail a cab back to his office, but was finding no luck in the matter. He resided himself to walking back, it wasn't so bad because it gave him a chance to think and gather his thoughts.

He started to drift into a thought and didn't realize the figure coming up behind him. Footsteps went unheard, breathing unnoticed, a hand unfelt. George was ripped back into reality when that hand pulled him around and pushed him up against a building.

"Who the hell?" George said, surprised.

The dark figure was large, breathing heavily. George's heart stammered, threatening to jump out of his chest. He could feel the familiar cold metal of a gun pushing up against his side, the only thing throwing him off was that it was still in its holster.

"Where's yo mind at?" It was the man from the computer café. He stopped talking, not really expecting an answer but seeing if George was going to answer nonetheless. "I know what ya tryin' ter find. I can help ya find it."

"Okay, but can you first get off of me?"

"Oh, sorreh," He backed off allowing George to stand away from the building. "Din't realize I had ya pinned so hard."

"Yeah, well…what is it you want Mr…."

"Mark, just call meh Mark. No need fer last names, soldier."

"You do realize I'm not actually with the military…right?"

"Of course, what'dya take meh for, some dumb moron?"

"Just making sure. Okay, now you say you can _help_ me?"

"Yeah, I know what'cher lookin' fer."

"So, we've established…."

"Yeah, the thing yer looking fer is in a lab in the University. Ya need to go there."

"The university, why there?"

"Has any of this made sense so far?" Mark put his hand on his hip and pinched the bridge of his nose with the other.

"Well I…it's just…" George tried to recover but couldn't.

"Look, ya need to go to the University and ya'll git the answer there."

"Well, uh…thanks, Mark."

"Just go take down that sumabitch."

"Wait, what?" George couldn't finish asking before Mark was already walking across the street. George turned to walk away deep in thought when something caught his eye. There was a flash of white, and then a loud crash as a white van collided with Mark. George felt the small shockwave that erupted from the impact, deep in his chest. The van was crushed in half; completely totaled. Mark lay still in one piece, gasping for breath.

George ran as fast as he could to the dying Mark.

"Geowjge! Geowjge! Help meh please!" Mark said pointing up into the sky.

George unscrewed a bottle of water. "Please try to use it."

"Thank ya kindly. Ya have to git to the University, ya have to take him down."

"Who?" George asked tipping the bottle for Mark.

"You need to find-" Mark's eyes shut and he let out his last breath.

"Who? Who?" George sat, waiting for a reply. He barely knew the man but he felt something for him, felt compelled to bring down the people that did this. George waited for a reply, but none came. Sitting for a moment, he reflected on what Mark said to him. "What the hell? Why does _everyone_ die before they can tell me the information I need?"

George stood up and turned to walk back to his office, noting the immense damage done to the white van as he walked away.


	8. Chapter 8

"_I wasn't completely convinced that I should believe what Mark told me. I had only met him for all of two minutes, but for some reason I knew I should follow his advice. For some reason I knew this whole shindig was going to be concluded in this University."_

George approached the front steps of the building and walked up the steps into what he assumed was the academic building. He opened the door and proceeded in, being greeted by a tall two story room with a receptionist desk in front of him. Behind the desk a portly middle aged woman sat, filing her nails.

"What can I do for you honey?" She said in a gruff voice, not looking up at George for more than five seconds before going back to her nails. "You looking for someone?"

"Uh, actually I'm not too sure what I'm looking for. I was told to come here and all of my questions would be answered."

"_I felt stupid then, realizing how much of a loon I must've sounded like standing there not knowing what I was doing there, but asking for help. I thought that I would just leave and keep what dignity I had left intact but then he came."_

The receptionist stopped filing her nails and laughed. "Well, honey I can't much help you then can I?"

George hung his head because he knew it was hopeless. "S'pose not, I guess."

He turned to leave but was stopped by a familiar voice. "George? George? Is that you?"

George turned to face the voice; he was greeted by a face he thought he'd never see again.

"George you dirty S.O.B what are you doing here?" Peter Jenkins said as he held out his hand for George to shake. George took the hand quickly and shook it ferociously, administering their handshake afterwards.

"Peter, what are _you_ doing here?"

"_I_ work here, but you don't so what are _you_ doing here?"

"Oh, I'm on a case actually, and all the signs seem to be leading me here." George motioned to the building and Peter followed his hand with his gaze.

"Anything I can help with?" Peter motioned for George to walk with him.

"Well, I'm not actually sure Peter but I'm looking for this dame's heirloom and I think it might be here somewhere." George frowned.

"_I knew that even if it was here, it'd be hell trying to find it. That little heirloom would be terribly hard to find in this huge campus."_

"To be honest George? It's going to be hell trying to find an heirloom on this huge campus."

"Yeah, I figured that one."

"Although, there have been an increase in the number of supplies we normally receive for keeping animals alive and such. Also, there are some unmarked boxes coming through sometimes. I thought the whole affair was odd, but you know my boss and everything is pretty strict on the whole 'confidential means confidential' stuff, so even I'm not allowed to open them or anything without a member of the security staff there."

George sighed as he understood the need for a relative sense of security on a campus, but this was just ridiculous.

"_Something was fishy and I had to press Peter to find out where those boxes where and find out where they were being taken to."_

"Peter, is there anything you _can_ tell me, maybe where they were taken? If it's not in an employee only place that is."

"Uh, I don't think that would be a problem as it's only the back lot, and students go through there all the time." Peter smiled, happy to be able to help an old college buddy out. George nodded and Peter led the way through the maze of corridors and class rooms.

Finally they exited through a door in the back of a drably decorated hall. The double doors opened and George was met by a stiff breeze. It looked like it might rain at any minute and Peter noticed too.

"We have to hurry this up though, I don't want to be caught in this, it's supposed to be a doosie."

George nodded and followed peter behind a parked truck and into another door. Blocking most of the area was a large flatbed truck with boxes on it. They looked like the same boxes from the warehouse. George's eyebrow perked up as he got closer. The boxes _were_ the same boxes from the warehouse.

"Do you mind?" George said indicating he meant to climb up and look at the boxes.

"Uh…I'm not sure you should be messing with that stuff, George."

George looked at Peter, then back at the boxes. "Look, I won't touch them or anything, just let me have a look?"

Peter considered for a moment and finally, nodded motioning George up onto the truck. "Don't touch _anything_ though, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He was already looking at the boxes examining each of them carefully, looking for anything that could give him some sort of hint. After a few minutes of looking, George noticed a piece of paper under one of the boxes. It was an invoice for the shipment.

_To: Dr. Greg Solomon_

_From: Valgun Industries_

_15 boxes of saline solution_

_25 boxes of mulch_

_16 boxes of fertilizer_

_1 box of fuses_

_1 box of metal glasses_

_2 boxes of multi colored gems_

_3 boxes of sealed containers_

_1 box of unsealed containers_

_9 boxes of insecticide_

_4 boxes of amphibian bathroom lining_

_Total: 78 boxes_

_Signature: X __Jack Wilson_

George looked at the list and made a mental count of the boxes and kept coming up with one too many boxes. 

"_Something told me that it wasn't a mistake, but I couldn't very well prove that it wasn't unless I could talk to this Dr. Greg myself. I would have to find out where he was from Peter and talk to him about this little mistake, he might know something more to help me find whoever it is that Mark sent me here to stop."_

George folded up the invoice and stuffed it in his coat pocket before hoping off of the truck. Peter let out a sigh as he looked around; making sure no one saw what he just let George do.

"Good, no one's here, let's get out of here before that changes."

"Peter, do you know who Dr. Greg Solomon is?"

"Yeah, he's my boss, why do you ask?"

"So you know where I could find him then right?"

"Sure, sure he's generally on the third floor, but that's restricted to the University personnel only."

George thought for a second before continuing on. "Is there no way I could get up there?"

"If you got a job here." Peter laughed at his own joke, but was not accompanied by George. He realized he was the only one laughing and stopped abruptly. "Well, other than that, I guess if you were invited up by Greg you could, I suppose."

"Hmm, could you arrange that?"

"I'm not so sure could do that." Peter said leading him back through the hallways. They came back through the set of double doors and were back at the entrance hall. "Look, I'm sorry I couldn't be much more help George, but if there's one thing I can tell you, it's that Dr. Solomon has been doing some crazy things up there in his lab. I'm not completely sure what he's doing but whatever it is, I don't think you want to be a part of it."

"Alright Peter, thanks for all the help and if there's nothing else you can tell me, I guess I should be off to look for that heirloom."

"Hold on George," Peter took George by the arm and brought him into the corner. "There is one thing I haven't mentioned yet. There's this security guard, his name's-"

Peter started to cough, George's heart was in his throat. Peter apologized and George sighed. "Sorry, his name's Jack Wilson. I think he's on Dr. Solomon's pay roll or something because he always follows Dr. Solomon around and does his bidding like a bodyguard or…henchman would be a better term I suppose."

"Okay, thanks Peter, I'll keep an eye out for this Wilson fellow." George said as he patted Peter's shoulder and began to walk towards the entrance to the hallway.

"_You know, it really surprised me that nothing happened to Peter, I mean I was glad but surprised he wasn't shot or stabbed or killed in one way or another. I was just glad that he was okay and nothing happened to him."_


	9. Chapter 9

George turned to leave, setting his sights on the door. Ideas of places to look were running through his mind. The door slipped open easily and the bright sunlight forced him to shield his eyes. It was really a beautiful day out. Birds were chirping, fountains spraying water, and students lounging on the grounds. George couldn't be completely cheery though, he had to find a way to get into Greg's office. 

"_Now that was going to be a feat and a half. Somehow, I had to convince the doctor himself to let me into his confidential office to poke around for something that he probably stolen or leads to something in which he was probably involved. I was certain I was going to have to think of something other than dressing up as a Girl Scout selling cookies. Although, I wondered if I could make that work…."_

Subconsciously, George made his way through the campus, not completely paying attention to what was going on around him. He managed to dodge students and the occasional Frisbee or football, but he still didn't know where he was going. After seemingly forever, George found his way to the library and walked inside. The quiet atmosphere would help him concentrate, he assumed. As he was pacing through the rows and rows of books lined up neatly, he looked at some of the covers.

_The Weary Blues, The Black Cat, The Metamorphosis, The Heart of Darkness._ George was impressed with the selection available to the students. He even stopped and picked one up to flip through.

"Enjoying yourself?" A feminine voice came from behind him.

Without looking up, George replied. "Oh, very much so-"

He recognized the voice. As he began to turn, a fist slammed deep into his stomach the air was instantly knocked from his lungs. The other hand clamped down on his throat and pushed him up against a nearby wall. George was breathing heavily and struggling to free himself from the woman's grasp. It was all in vain, the woman had a strong grip on George's other arm and twisted it so he could not move it. Pain shot up his arm and the woman stifled a cry using the hand at his throat.

"So, George, we meet again. What are you doing here? Asking around about the good doctor? D'ya know something? Something you might like to _share_ with me?"

George tried to talk but he no words would come forth. A few grunts and groans escaped.

"Oh? Still nothing? Well seeing as how you're here you must know _something_." She loosened her grip on his throat slightly. "Why'd you do that George? Why'd you copy the documents?"

George coughed before trying to talk again. "I have a job to do and I intend on doing it. I never let my cases get the better of me, even if there's some agency trying to steal my work."

Rita brought her knee up into George's side; he coughed and yelped with the surprise of the blow. "Big words coming from a man who's not in the position to piss me off right now. I could haul yer ass in for endangering this investigation. You know, now that Greg knows you've been asking around, there's not a snowball's chance in hell that we can get to him by any _civil_ means."

"By civil you mean you can't force him to let you in, with big words and a shiny badge." George smirked; proud that he was still bucking the law in the face of adversity. Rita had none of it; she pushed his head against the wall and released him. A loud thud echoed through the library as George's head clunked against the wall.

"So, how exactly were _you_ going to get in then?" Rita folded her arms, letting George rub his forehead.

"I haven't thought up a plan yet, but when I do you better believe it's going to be a good one."

"And you're in the library browsing books why?" She extended one arm at the elbow in a questioning manner before placing her hands on her hips. "Doesn't seem like you'll get very far in here with just a bunch of old books that have fancy print."

"For some reason, I think I might be able to find some way up there in here. Maybe a blueprint of the school or some way to gain access to a place that has the blueprints." George was exhausted and he was grasping at straws, hoping one would lead him to Greg's office. He looked at Rita, praying she would chime in, give him something that would make him think of a solution. She only returned a blank stare.

"Excuse me…is everything alright?" An elderly woman stood in the opening between two shelves of books. She had thick glasses and a long skirt that went down to her knees, the archetype of a librarian if there ever was one. George looked at her and nodded. She smiled, "Then can you please keep it down, I have students that I need to help find things for".

"_I had to stop and think; what was I going to do? How was I going to get up into that office? I needed to find a blueprint of this building and fast."_

"Oh, excuse me." George said, trying to catch the librarian's attention. "Could you help me find something?"

"Are you a student?" She asked, adjusting her glasses, trying to eye up George. "Or a teacher at that."

"Well, no not really."

"Not really?" She put her hand on a hip and raised an eyebrow in a questioning manner. "So, what are you then?"

"We're on official gov-" Rita started in, but was cut off by George.

"My dear lady, why I'm on an assignment by Doctor Greg Solomon." George said, coming closer to the woman.

"Doctor Solomon? He barely comes out of his office, I don't believe you."

George stroked his chin before continuing. "Why do you think I'm here? He can't be bothered by coming down here _himself_. I run all of his errands and on this occasion it has brought me to your lovely place of work."

She hesitated a moment, considering his story but put a scowl on, "I'm sorry, but the library is for student and teacher purposes only. If the doctor wants something, he will have to give you a letter or come down himself." She shifted her gait and began to leave.

Rita began to reach into her coat to retrieve something. George saw it was a badge, but forcing the issue wasn't going to help. He pushed her hand back and walked in front of the old woman. "Oh, please, won't you make an exception just this once?"

Her scowl deepened, "I'm sorry Mister…"

"Hamilton, George Hamilton at your service." George bowed before her.

"Well, Mr. Hamilton, I'm afraid I can't make any exceptions even if you are who you claim you are. Doctor Solomon knows that and should've sent you with a letter of some sort."

"Pretty woman like yourself shouldn't scowl so much, it ruins your complexion. However, I guess I will have to go get a note from the good doctor. It will deeply distress him though."

"Yes, well thank you for the compliment but you should've gotten a note first."

"It wasn't a compliment but the truth my dear." George brushed a strand of hair out of the woman's face. "I guess I will be going now, I expect I will see you soon."

The woman watched as George turned to leave. "I suppose it _is _a far way to walk, why don't I just give him a call?"

"That would be kind, but Doctor Solomon is conducting an important experiment at the moment and cannot be disturbed."

"Oh, that's a pity."

George started to turn, but stopped. "There is, however, one person you might be able to call. Peter Jenkins, he works with Doctor Solomon."

Her face brightened, "Yes, I know Peter well. I can give him a ring and see what's up and then we can just let you get on your way with what you need." She raced off to the counter and walked behind the small swinging door. The phone made a ding as she picked it up and began dialing Peter's extension. The cord began to twist between her fingers as she played with it while waiting.

"Ah, hello, Peter? It's Amelia, yes from the library. I have a George Hamilton here saying he's on an errand from Doctor Solomon, can you confirm this? Oh, you can? He is? Alright, thank you, sorry for the inconvenience. Okay, I'll talk to you later. Bye."

Amelia hung up the phone and looked to George. " Okay, all confirmed, what was it you were looking for?"

"Well, Amelia –beautiful name by the way- I was looking for a blueprint of the school, namely around Doctor Solomon's office."

She bit her lip and looked around the library, pulling up a mental catalog of everything in the room. "Hm, I _think_ we have those upstairs. Usually the engineering students like to look at those, although I haven't had any students in here recently." Amelia led them up the circular stairs into a well-kept archive of all the newspaper articles and everything that cannot be classified as a book. The old woman crept through the library, winding up and down the rows of shelves until she found the one she wanted. "Ah, here it is."

Amelia pulled out a large binder about the size of a small table. With a great _huff,_ she placed the binder on a nearby desk and opened it for George. "I believe this is the Doctor's office riiiiight here."

Her bony finger pointed towards the upper right side of one of the pages. She circled the area before taking her finger away so George could see. "Do you need anything else?"

George shook his head and thanked the woman. As she passed by, she whispered in his ear. "I'm glad you know flattery gets you places in this world." When she was leaving she pinched George's behind, causing him to jump a little.

Rita didn't seem to notice because she was completely absorbed in the blue print. "Okay, see this right here?" She pointed to an air duct near the lab. "We can probably get in through here, hopefully he doesn't have any actual security besides the ones the school has."

"Well, what about that security?" George asked while considering the plan.

"This little badge will take care of that problem easily. Now, I want you to understand. I don't care about that thing you're looking for as much as I care about apprehending Doctor Solomon. So, when we get up there, I arrest him, and you can get whatever it is you're looking for, got it?"

George nodded his understanding. Rita began to go over the plan with George. 

-------------------------------

Doctor Greg Solomon walked around his lab, tinkering with random objects, trying to find the reason his experiment wasn't working. Nothing he had tried in the past seemed to work. The tube before him stood tall, an obelisk of failure, laughing at him every time he looked upon its glassy exterior. The test subject inside floated with tubes attached to its every orifice. Greg picked up a ball and threw it up into the air, letting it fall back into his hand.

"It was only a matter of time before that gum shoe found where I was. I won't let him ruin my research; I won't let him stop my creation." Greg placed the ball back on his desk and walked to the glass tube. He touched the cold tube, rubbing it with his thumb like a mother would rub her baby. "My masterpiece will be finished."

"Uh, doctor?" A broad shouldered grunt walked in, knocking on the door. "There have been some sightings of that man you asked us to look for."

"Good and the woman is with him?" Greg asked without looking away from the tube.

"Yes doctor. They are both in the library as we speak." The man looked uncomfortable.

"The library? What are they doing in the library?"

"Well, I don't actually know. They've been in there for a little while; all we know is that they are on the second floor, huddled over a table."

"Then, what do you think you should do about it?"

"We…we should find out?"

"Good now don't just say it, _do it_." Greg finally turned from the tube to look at the man as he nodded and left. "I need to remember to shoot that man."

-------------------------------

George looked at Rita, after she was done explaining the plan. He shut the binder and put it back on the shelf. As they got ready to leave, a man walked up to them.

"Hello, can I help you with anything?" He stood, towering over them both. Rita looked at him and quickly brushed him off.

"No, we're just leaving", She said as she wiggled her way around him. George followed suit, pushing past the man.

"Can I see your identification then?" He grabbed both of their arms. Rita turned around and kicked the man in the knee. A loud _pop_ and then a _crack_ confirmed that she had broken his knee and part of his leg. The man screamed out and collapsed on the ground, allowing the two to run away.

"Why the _hell_ did you do that?" George screamed out as Rita dragged him along the rows of shelves to the stairs.

"Don't you think Greg has people all around this campus? Don't you think that he would send them after us?" Rita was taking the steps two at a time with George right behind her.

"He was only asking for some identification." George breathed out.

"Are you that stupid? Why wouldn't he have talked to us when we first got there if he really wanted to see some I.D.?"

"_She had a point, but I wasn't going to let her just go around injuring everyone who tried to stop us. We had to find another way to go about this. We weren't going to get far breaking legs every time someone stopped us."_

"Fine, but we need to find another way of doing this; the entire campus will be after us if you keep doing that."

Rita shot George a glare, "Alright, _you_ take care of the next grunt that wants to kill us."

George understood her remark, but kept moving until they got to the entrance to the library. The old woman smiled, "So, did you find what you needed?"

Rita, wouldn't stop, "Yes, thank you beautiful, I did". George said with a wink, watching the woman blush as he left.

"Okay Casanova, we have to go back to the entrance hall and get into the professor's recreation room."

Rita finally slowed enough for George to match her pace. They made their way back through the campus until they reached the entrance hall again.

"Look, if you have to work that same crap again, warn me first so I have a chance not to shoot myself." Rita said as she pushed open the door for George.

-------------------------------

Doctor Solomon slammed his fist on the table in excitement. He finally figured it out, the answer to the riddle that was plaguing him for months, the answer that would allow him to complete his ultimate creation. Now, no one could stand in his way of realizing his full potential.

He took the needle he had filled up a few seconds ago, and walked over to the tube. Slowly, he injected the solution into the intravenous drip. The creature's eyelids pushed together, its brow drew down in consternation, but nothing happened. Greg knew it would take some time, but didn't know how long.

"Doctor!" The same grunt came running into his office. "They've escaped into the campus, we can't find them anywhere."

"Ridiculous!" Greg said before he reached into his back pocket and withdrew a pistol. "I want you to find them, and find them fast!"

"Yessir!" The grunt started to run away. Greg took aim and shot the man in the back five times. He dropped down to his knees, gasping for air. Loudly, he collapsed to the ground with a pool of blood forming around his dead body. Doctor Solomon casually walked over to the man and shot him once more in the head. It was the price of failure under Greg's ranks, he knew it coming into his position, and he knew it before he died.

"Samuelson," Greg said as turned back to his office. Another man, who looked almost identical to the dead man came running instantly. "Did you hear what I told him?"

"Yes I did doctor."

"Good, then I want it taken care of, and you already know what happened to your predecessor. Do not fail me."

-------------------------------

George closed the door behind him quietly, it was by pure luck that he was able to talk their way into the professor's recreation lounge. Rita pulled out the blueprint and looked for where the air duct was. She ran her hand along the wall, knocking on it. She listened as she went until she heard a metallic _thud_.

"Here" Was all she said before walking away.

"I thought it would be more of an opening than a solid-"

"Coming through." Rita took a metal chair from a nearby table and slammed it hard into the wall. The wall erupted in a medley of loud bangs and chunks of plasterboard.

"What the hell!" George screamed in a whisper. Rita had damaged the wall enough to rip out the rest of the wall by hand. She put down the chair without answering George and began to tear apart the wall near where the opening of the old air duct used to be.

"To answer your question, if you could tell from the blueprint, this building has been remodeled. No doubt, they didn't feel like ripping out the air duct, so they just put a drop wall in front of it." Rita strained as she ripped off one final large piece of the wall.

With everything out of the way, Rita brushed off some excess wall while George reassured the receptionist that he had just fallen over the chair. With a _click,_ Rita had her flashlight out and was already crawling up the air duct. George turned just in time to see the bottom half of Rita wiggling through the opening.

"Hey! Wait for me."

"_This dame was determined and I knew if I wasn't on the ball, then my case would go caput because of her."_

George waited until Rita was completely in the duct before crawling in after her, with his own flashlight on. The duct was claustrophobic at best and a coffin at worst. To say it was difficult to move was an understatement. George's shoulders were clamped between the sides of the duct and were actually keeping him from falling. Rita moved much easier though and was making way faster than George. He strained to catch up, but knew he wouldn't be able to.

"Rita, wait."

"Climb faster." Rita breathed out before being swallowed by the dark.

"_I was beginning to get a feeling that she didn't like me very much. Rita couldn't care less if I had gotten out of that duct alive, and even less if I finished my case. However, I was determined to get through this duct, so I pushed on harder."_

It seemed like the space was getting smaller with every inch he climbed, but George knew better. He mentally reassured himself that he was going to get out soon; it didn't help when drawing a breath became hard. The flashlight did little to illuminate his path, but helped to keep his mind at ease.

The endless climb up, ended abruptly when George hit his head on the metal casing of the air duct. He bent at the waist and pulled himself through the next part of the vent. The flashlight slipped from his hand and was sent hurtling down the ventilation shaft, banging against the walls as it fell.

"_This wasn't good; I was in a dark shaft without a light and no idea where to go. The whole situation was becoming very disorienting, but my only option was to press on. I couldn't just sit there and hope something happened, so I forced my body to move, to push myself further."_

George slowly made his way in the dark, feeling along the shaft for some opening. He crawled straight through until he came to a turn; he had to serpentine his body to make the turn. His body was overheating from the effort it took to pull his body through the duct. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned a few buttons on his shirt. George had to pull himself further and further into the darkness. With no sense of time, it seemed like the crawl was taking ages. Sweat beaded on his fore head, sliding down his face and dripping off his chin.

"_It was like an oven in those ducts. I had no idea why it was so hot, but I thought I was going to melt or become a nice suckling George. My mind was becoming a haze of worrying if I was going to live and the need to drive myself forward."_

He found another corner and turned that one as well. Was he going in circles? Where was he? If only Rita hadn't left him, he would still have a light to use. Rita, she was the one who noticed the duct in the first place, maybe this was her idea. Maybe she was really just trying to lure him in here to kill him discreetly. It's possible, he was getting in the way of the agency, and they can't have someone in the way of their investigation.

Panic splashed over George like a tidal wave. He became frantic, his breathing raced, his heart beat faster, his blood vessels contracted. Hyperventilation set in, he was going to die, and it was all Rita's fault. The woman led him to his own death, he was sure that she escaped somewhere ahead of him. If he just turned around, he might be able to get out. At least he knew that there was one way out, but would he be able to make it?

"_I was stuck with a decision to make: Should I press on and hope that there's an exit nearby or do I turn around and risk not making it back to the entrance. I knew one thing; I had to calm down if I was going to make it out alive."_

George slowly drew in a breath and released it just as slow. Mental words of comfort slowed his racing heart, slowed his breathing. It was working he told himself, he tried not to think of the problem but of the solution.

"_I think it was then that I decided that I didn't care how long it took, I was determined to make it. The only decision I could make was to continue. There was no chance of me surviving if I had to crawl back."_

George sighed as he formed his consternation and pushed himself on with sheer determination. With a renewed sense of purpose, George pulled through the duct faster than he had before. No openings were in sight, but George pressed on.

"_The whole memory is hazy so I don't really remember how long I was crawling in that God-awful place, but I remember that light like it was just a few minutes ago."_

Up ahead, a light shown through the darkness. The striped pattern was carved on the metallic sheeting of the duct, a ray of hope for George. He crawled with all of his might until finally, he reached the opening.

Through the bars in the duct, George could see a laboratory underneath. For some reason, he recognized it, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. Carefully, George tried to pry the bars off of the duct. Success was on his side, the bars opened up easily, and quietly too. George lowered himself into the laboratory and landed softly on the ground.

With a better view of the room, he knew instantly where he had seen the laboratory from. The same logo on the computer monitor, the same tables, the same instruments. This was the laboratory from the videos. George's gaze shot around the room, looking for anyone that could be there. Not a single soul was in the room except for him.

"_It was easy, too easy. Something was up and I could feel it. I told myself to stay on guard, but there's only so much a person could do."_

George warily walked further in to the room. He passed his hand over the tables and over the instruments. The whole scene was surreal.

"I see you like what you see Mr. Hamilton." George wheeled around to come face to face with the doctor from the videos. Without a moment hesitation, the doctor smacked George upside the head with a thin metal pan. George was sent sprawling on the ground, knocking over one of the tables. His ears rung and his head felt like it was going to explode. Blurriness over took his vision, he tried to focus his eyes but it was still shocked from the encounter. "You are one sneaky sonofabitch, do you know that? I've tried many times to have you killed, but failed each time. Every one f my assassination attempts ended up conveniently missing you. Haven't you wondered why all of those around you seemed to die?"

The doctor walked towards George, who was almost recovered. George stood up, using the over turned experiment table as a support. He stood shakily, but stood nonetheless.

"Ah, tough as ever I see," the doctor motioned with his hand before continuing. "Let me introduce myself, I am Doctor Greg Solomon, at your service."

"I really don't care who you are." George said as he backed away and tried to find some sort of weapon. Greg threw aside the dented metal pan and took out his handgun.

"Oh, but don't you see? It doesn't matter what you think anymore, I've already succeeded, and my creation is complete." Greg aimed the handgun at George and leaned close. "All I needed was the power source, all I needed was something to keep the creature alive, something to hold it all together."

Sudden realization hit George. "The heirloom." He said to himself.

"What's that? Oh, I believe he's finally figured it out. You know for a Private Investigator, you're pretty useless." Greg walked closer to George, who in turn backed away. "You don't get it do you? My creation will change the face of the earth. Conflicts, skirmishes, _wars_, will be a thing of the past. My creature is perfect and Godlike. Mr. Hamilton, you should be proud; you will be the first person to test my greatest creation."

Greg had made his way over to a console and slammed down one of the buttons. A tank next to George began to empty and the creature inside began to awaken. The skin of the monster took on a grayish hue, and the exposed heart began to beat rapidly, the claws moved one at a time like it was trying to test them. Once all of the water drained from the tank, it started to rouse. At first, it was docile, but soon it became enraged and started slamming the glass with its claws. 

The glass didn't stand a chance. It shattered within two hits, the creature leaped out of the container and looked around.

"Go, kill him my creation." Greg stood with his arms raised, a smile spread along his face. The creature looked at him quickly before driving one of its claws deep into his stomach. Blood sprayed out of his back, coloring the tables and console behind him. Gore stuck to the creature's claw. Bone could be heard shattering as it pulled out, Greg fell to his knees, and no doubt, the spine had been broken. "W…w…what? Ridiculous! My creature was perfect, it was amazing, what…what did I do wrong?"

The handgun fell out of his hand and slid across the room, opposite of George.

"_That was the way my luck worked. The only gun in the room and it falls on the other side of the room, blocked by two tons of monster. Well, I've had worse."_

George bolted away from the creature, trying to lure it towards him so he could run around it. He ducked behind the container, but couldn't stay long. The creature roared and backhanded the container, causing glass to rain down on George. George covered his head with his hands, feeling the pricks of the glass. Quickly, George stood up and jumped through the broken container. He rolled on his shoulder and stood up behind the creature.

The handgun was only a few feet away from him. George grabbed the gun and ran towards the door. Passing where he had come in the room from, George had a straight shot to the door. From behind him, the creature roared and began to run at George. The wall exploded behind George as the creature crashed into it. George wrenched open the metal doors and locked it from the inside.

"Those doors should hold him for a while." George said with a sigh of relief. Suddenly, clumps of plasterboard exploded out at him, as the wall opened up and revealed the monster standing proudly. "Sonofa…"

George took aim and shot it in the exposed heart. The monster grabbed at its heart and screamed, but didn't fall down. Instead, it looked like it only angered it, George's eyes widened as he turned on his heel and resumed his running.

"_I had thought that would take down the creature, but I was wrong. As I was running thoughts of death flooded my mind, but I couldn't help thinking that shooting its heart should've worked. Maybe if I shot it some more something might work."_

As the creature got close, George rolled to the side narrowly missing being hit with the claw. On one knee, George took aim a second time; he squeezed the trigger and missed. The bullet grazed the shoulder of the monster. He didn't have time to shot again as he rolled once more to evade the oncoming onslaught of attacks from the monster. That claw flew through the air at deadly speeds, if he were caught by it once, it would surely be fatal.

Any chance he got, George would try to shoot the monster, but it wasn't giving him much chance to aim for the heart.

_Whoosh_. The claw flew past George again. On his knees once more, George took aim, taking care not to miss. He squeezed the trigger and let off a shot. Blood squirted out of the heart as the bullet lodged into the fleshy exposed organ. Again, the monster clutched at its chest, screaming in pain. This time, however, it fell to one knee briefly.

"_It was working, if I kept shooting that heart, it would eventually die. I had a way to kill it. Now my only problem was avoiding its attacks long enough to put it down."_

George stood up immediately, when he learned of the weakness and began to run for the exit of this room. The monster was on its feet by the time he reached the door and was barreling towards him.

The door opened smoothly and George ran through. The world fell, George's stomach came up to his throat, and the shock of losing all sense of reality hit him like a ton of bricks. Underneath him, where he expected there to be floor, emptied out into the floor below him, George fell through and collapsed abruptly onto the second floor. He groaned as he rolled to his feet and began to run, anyway that could get him out of the path of the monster.

A familiar roar erupted from through the hole and the monster came crashing down onto the second floor behind George. Being hurt from the fall, George was limping as fast as he could, but he knew it wasn't going to be fast enough. Careful aiming wasn't a luxury he had; George turned slightly, while still limping and shot at the creature. Mostly, missing but hit it twice in the heart.

It was then that he spotted what he needed to put down the creature. An exposed wire on the ceiling sprayed sparks all over the floor, with a switch next to it, George was certain that he could at least 

render the creature unconscious long enough to sever the heart from the creature. George took his jacket and tore off a sleeve, wrapped his hand in the sleeve and punched out a window next to him. He broke off a piece of glass and waited by the switch.

The monster had recovered, but was showing signs of damage from the abuse it was taking. It watched George for a second, considering what he was doing, but its aggressive nature took over and it charged at him. George waited, trying to keep his nerves about him. It had to be right under the sparks when it got to him or it wouldn't work.

_Ten feet._

_Six feet._

_Four._

_Two._

_Now._ George slammed the switch down and a bolt of electricity shot from the wire and into the monster. It didn't even have a chance to roar as its eyes rolled in the back of its head and it collapsed on the ground. Within an instant, George pounced on the creature, took the glass shard and started cutting out the monster's heart. The shard was bloodied by the work, but it had done its job. George had cut out over half of the heart. The monster breathed its last few breaths, George rammed the shard down into the remaining part of the heart and kicked it down farther just to make sure.

"_With that thing out of the way, the only job left was to retrieve the heirloom."_

George walked over the creature and looked down at it. With a deep breath, he pulled down its thong.

"Whoa, that's _huge_." Rita surprised George.

"Well it's not _that_ big. I mean, mine's bigger."

"But you don't even have one."

"_Excuse me!_"

"You don't have a claw like that."

"Oh…..never mind." George quickly took the thong and stuffed it in his coat pocket.

"Wait what were you…" George walked as fast as he could back to the entrance of the school.

-------------------------------

"It was a difficult task, but I finally have your heirloom back." George said as he twisted the dial to his personal safe.

"Oh, thank you Mr. Hamilton, thank you so much." Cindy clasped her hands in front of her body, shaking joyfully. "You have no idea how happy I am to have this back. I haven't even been able to sleep for the past few days."

"_The dame was too excited for me, after all I had been through, I was just glad it was over. A few days? Felt more like a life time."_

George withdrew a large manila envelope from the safe and threw it on the desk. His entire experience rested in that envelope and it almost felt like he was giving up some sort of cursed item. "There it is, your 'heirloom'."

"_I can't say that I'm not glad this case was over, but looking back on it I would've taken this case all over again. Something inside me just felt that if I went back, I would have to do this all over again."_

Cindy ripped open the package and took out the thong. Her face contorted, and she looked up at George with a saddened expression. "You stretched it."


	10. Alternate Joke Ending

A/N: This was an alternate ending I made up just to mess with my friend.

George walked gingerly out of the office, slamming the door behind him. A cool breeze blew through his jacket and up his shirt, producing goose flesh that overtook his chest and stomach. He looked around at the empty courtyard, looking, waiting for something to happen. It was then that he saw it, the end of his life, the very thing that would extinguish his existence. A flash of light, a reflection off of a scope not more than a hundred yards away.

"_I wasn't quite sure if I heard the shot, but I remember jumping out of the way. The bullet hit the steps exactly where I was standing."_

George lay on the ground, panting, a tree now between him and the sniper. He was safe for the time being, safe from the lunatic trying to kill him. There was only one problem, he couldn't stay there forever he would have to move eventually. Time was running out to find Cindy's heirloom.

"_I had to think, I knew I couldn't out wait him, but I also knew I couldn't move. If I moved I was dead, there was only one option, distraction."_

Slowly, George peered out from behind the tree. Instantly, he heard a bullet ricochet off of the concrete courtyard. Grunting as he pulled himself quickly behind the tree again, George had to think of a new plan. His mind was racing, going through all of the possible outcomes of everything he did. Like an advanced supercomputer, all of the possibilities were thought up and then checked off as each one led to his demise.

There was only one option. George pulled out his pistol and fired one shot from behind the tree. He waited and waited. Nothing happened.

"_There was no way possible that I made that shot…or could I have?"_

George peered around cautiously once more and saw from above the clock tower, a body hanging over the railing. Happily, and a little confused, George stood and rejoiced to know that he was in danger no more. He spread his hands out and laughed at the prospect of being alive to face another day.

It came out of nowhere, pain was absent, only the sound of porcelain hitting face. George collapsed instantly.

"Oh, sorry about that." David said from five stories up, "Didn't mean to knock that out of the window, my bad."

And so ends our tale.


End file.
